Page 39 of A River of Crows

“We?”

“Felicity and I,” Sloan said.

“Wow, Dylan Lawrence and Felicity Hadfield? Seems I’ve missed a lot.” Something bitter dripped from Noah's tone. “Anyway, I tracked down Leo Jackson. I called and asked him if he remembered somebody trying to take you that day at his store.”

Sloan leaned forward. “And?”

“And he does.”

Sloan felt a rush of relief at having been validated.

“He didn’t remember the year, but he remembered the day,” Noah explained.

“The day?”

“It was his birthday. He was so bothered by what happened, he and his wife didn’t go out to dinner that night.”

“And his birthday is?”

“August 20th.”

“It had to be Eddie then,” Sloan said.

“Now, hold on.” Noah raised his hand. “Leo knew Eddie Daughtry. He doesn’t think it was him.”

Sloan stood, pacing in front of Noah’s desk. “Did he actually get a good look at the man’s face, though?”

“I don’t know. All he said was Caroline was adamant that the police not be involved. She claimed she was taking you away soon—somewhere the bad men couldn’t find you.”

Sloan stopped pacing. “Bad men? That’s what she said, bad men?”

“According to Leo.”

“So, she knew?” Sloan plopped down in a chair. “She knew Eddie was after me? Did she know he took Ridge? Noah, what’s going on here?”

Noah crossed his arms. “I’m not sure, but this proves nothing about Ridge. There was an investigation. There was evidence against Jay. The D.A. and twelve jurors agreed he killed Ridge.”

“I'm well aware of that.” She spat out the words. “But has anyone even asked Eddie about this?”

“I’m not on that case. I have no clue what they’ve asked Eddie Daughtry.”

“And you’re not going to find out?” Anger like sharp barbs formed on her words. “Some best friend you turned out to be to Ridge.”

“And some friend you turned out to be to me, Sloan.” Noah’s voice rose an octave. “You just drove away and never looked back. Now, you want my help.” He picked up the folder. “This is me helping you, but it’s still not enough! Everything has to be on your terms. It’s always been all or nothing with you.” Noah slammed the folder back down on the desk, sending a few papers inside flying.

Sloan bent down to gather the papers and her composure. Noah was right; she had no room to talk about being a lousy friend. “Sorry,” she said, rising up to put the papers back in the file. “I have no right to ask you for anything, but something’s going on here. Can I get a copy of the report of Eddie’s arrest that day?” Sloan wanted to read it herself. Wanted to try to put a timeline of the day together.

“This is an active case. I can’t do anything to undermine the investigation.”

Sloan sighed. He hadn’t earned the nickname Noah the Noble for nothing.

“The FBI is in this,” Noah said. “I shouldn’t be discussing any of it with you. The best I can do is to give you our records about Ridge’s disappearance.” He reached under the folder and held out a manila envelope. It hardly looked thick enough to hold the contents of an entire investigation.

“Thanks.” Sloan’s hand shook as she took the envelope.

“This won’t turn out like you hope,” Noah said. “This isn’t like those detective novels you used to like. You aren't going to read these files and find some smoking gun. Read them. Then, let this go.”

“Will you read through them too?” Sloan asked.

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